


Love Is Not a Victory March

by alittlebriton



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Royalty, BAMF Alec Lightwood, Bottom Alec Lightwood, First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M, Master/Servant, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mutual Pining, POV Magnus Bane, Prince Magnus Bane, Servant Alec Lightwood, Top Magnus Bane
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 09:51:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14713803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alittlebriton/pseuds/alittlebriton
Summary: "Alec Lightwood? That boy puts family and duty before anything else. But he’s smart, Magnus. Very smart. And your succession is not as yet secure. You could do with someone very smart on your side. And someone whose brother is in the Palace Guard.”“I can’t help but feel they’d be more on our side if we hadn’t just ordered them into servitude,” he retorted and turned back to the Lightwoods only to find Alec standing not two feet away.“My lord,” he said and bowed.Two years ago, Magus returned to his father's kingdom to find his old friend - well, possibly more than a friend - Alec Lightwood pressed into service in his household. In those two years, Magnus has fallen deeper and deeper for him, but can't break through Alec's walls of propriety.Now, in the run up to the Seelie Queen's visit, more and more is happening within the court that could push Alec out of his grasp forever, from potential arranged marriages to his own father wanting to steal Alec to his own bed. And Alec still has no idea what a simple touch from him can do to Magnus - but is about to find out.





	Love Is Not a Victory March

**Author's Note:**

> A couple of warnings:  
> There is mention of a harem in this fic which is more akin to legalised prostitution than slavery, but skip if the thought makes you feel ill. 
> 
> There is also a scene where the consent is not explicit or verbalised at the time and as it includes a servant providing a hand job, I wanted to flag this for those who find that worrisome. 
> 
> And notes:  
> This was written in less than a week because my plot bunnies multiplied in my head when I should have been writing other WIPs. It's entirely possible more will be written in this universe but not for a while. This is my first AU, so please be kind.
> 
> Thank you so much to the AMAZING @ohfreckle for the Beta and @bcnedrah for the title. Go check out their wonderful fics!

“Yes, my lord,” Alec says quietly, and Magnus risks a peek at him, his eyes downcast, focused on the job at hand, as usual. He’s like this after he has to serve Magnus at dinner with his father, or when they have guests – nothing left of the sarcastic, eye-rolling, grinning man that shares palace secrets with Magnus and listens to him talk strategy, frequently pointing out better ways to do things.

“Well, at least I’ll still have you,” Magnus says, quietly, and Alec’s eyes flicker but don’t look up. “It’s bad enough father’s giving me stupid diplomatic things to do with our honoured guests, but when he suggested that you help out in his household? No, I know what my father wants with you.”

Alec shivers and puts down the cotton, now covered in kohl.

“He’ll have me one of these days, my lord,” Alec says, his voice steady but Magnus can see his pulse racing at his throat.

“No, he won’t. He’s sick and old, and you’re my most-trusted advisor. If he wants me to step up to show that I’m worthy of ruling Edom, then I need you by my side.” Magnus is brisk, but inwardly, he too is worried. Asmodeus looks upon Alec more and more like a vulture, readying for a new carcass. He’ll be damned if it’s Alec’s.

“Will that be all, my lord?” Alec rises, and Magnus blinks up at him. Curse him for being so tall. It’s unbecoming in a servant.

“Yes, thank you, Alec,” Magnus says. 

“The pleasure was all mine.” Alec bows swiftly and exits with Magnus’ eyes on his frame. He sighs and rolls into his bed, pulling the many pillows he has around him in some semblance of a cocoon. He hates how his father gets under Alec’s skin.

  

The Lightwoods disgraced enough that their children were pressed into service was not a sight he’d expected to see upon his return to his father’s lands two years ago. When he’d left, Alec and Jace had been his friends, or at least, noble enough to be friendly and pass the time with. For a while, he’d even thought that perhaps he and Alexander – but he’d had to leave to trade with Alicante, and he’d had to put all memories of hazel eyes and a radiant smile away. When he entered the great hall, expecting to be met with fanfare, or at the very least a pat on the back from his father, he found the king locked in a shouting match with Robert Lightwood while Maryse sobbed next to him. The children huddled together, Jace’s blond hair standing out like a beacon, the cuckoo in the pigeon’s nest.

“You failed me, and now you will pay the price,” his father had spat. “I’ve been generous. You keep your firstborn and your lastborn. Jace joins the Palace Guard. But there is nowhere else for the lovely Isabelle to serve except in the harem.” 

Isabelle blanched and swayed, but Alec caught her by the elbow and kept her still. Magnus had taken a moment to look them over – Isabelle certainly had grown into a beautiful woman and he could understand why his father wished to cage such a vibrant bird. But Alec – Alec had looked tired and withdrawn, like he’d been fighting for quite some time.

None of them paid any attention to Magnus, so he sidled up to his father’s Head Counsel.

“What the hell?” he muttered under his breath and Ragnor kicked him in the ankle.

“Shut up,” he hissed. “I’m about to change your life.”

Before Magnus could ask what Ragnor had meant, Alec stepped forward and said, in a clear voice that held no room for argument, “Enough! I will take Isabelle’s place in this bargain. You cannot deprive a family of their only daughter, not to a harem, no matter how majestic. I will serve in whatever capacity you wish me to.”

Asmodeus had shrugged like it mattered not at all which Lightwoods he received in this deal, but Magnus hadn’t missed the way his eyes flashed as he looked Alec over. 

“If I might, your majesty?” Ragnor stepped forward and Asmodeus beamed. He valued his High Counsel’s judgment a great deal, which most people dwelling in Edom relied on. 

“Why not ask the young master Lightwood to serve your son, your Majesty? Much in the way I have served you faithfully. After such a successful time being your diplomatic envoy, it seems fitting that Magnus now takes on some of your least-liked duties.”

Such as actually governing, Magnus thought sourly.

“And how does that punish them?” Asmodeus said, interested.

“While it’s true Magnus and Alexander had been friends, what’s even more true is that Magnus is young. Speaking freely, my lord, there may come a time soon where any deal you made is buried with you. Alexander Lightwood, however, will have a long and hopefully happy life in service to your son. Any issue of his will also be born into service.”

Asmodeus started to laugh and Magnus looked at Alexander, his eyes wide. Maryse and Robert were whispering to him, clearly trying to get him to change his mind, while Isabelle looked both grateful and stricken. Only Magnus noticed that Alec and Jace were holding each other’s hands as tight as they could.

“Done,” Asmodeus decreed, and finally turned to Magnus. “My boy, see how you’re rewarded when you come home? I give you a gift of an unmarried and unbedded friend to serve your every need. Even here we’ve heard tales of how varied those needs are. A man after his father’s heart!”

He swept off the throne and clapped Magnus on the shoulder as he left, leaving Magnus wincing at his words. Alec still hadn’t looked at him.

“Well, I saved him for you,” Ragnor said to Magnus under his breath. 

“How did you know he’d even offer?” Magnus asked, and Ragnor scoffed.

“Oh, come on. Alec Lightwood? That boy puts family and duty before anything else. But he’s smart, Magnus. Very smart. And your succession is not as yet secure. You could do with someone very smart on your side. And someone whose brother is in the Palace Guard.”

“I can’t help but feel they’d be more on our side if we hadn’t just ordered them into servitude,” he retorted and turned back to the Lightwoods only to find Alec standing not two feet away.

“My lord,” he said and bowed. Ragnor muttered ‘oh, very nice’ quietly and Magnus stepped on his foot.

“Alec, it’s me. We don’t have to do that.” Alec looked up, right at him, and then fixed his eyes over his shoulder. They were just as striking as he remembered and something dormant stirred in his chest.

“Forgive me, my lord, but I do. I’m now part of your household and will faithfully serve you. You are the presumptive heir, my lord. You may have been my friend once, but now I’m your servant. What is your will, my lord?”

Magnus swallowed down the argument he wanted to have. Alec stood proudly, and the remaining Lightwoods seemed to have relaxed now that Alec had made the choice for them all. The notion of Alec taking charge even in servitude was an irony unmissed. 

“This way then,” was all he said, and he turned, ushering Alec into his new life.

 

Magus can hear that Alec is in a better mood simply by the way he opens the curtains the next morning, the previous night’s unpleasantness at dinner apparently forgotten. 

“What is your desire, my lord?” he asks as he does every day, and just like every day for the past few months, Magnus has to bite his tongue from replying ‘you’. 

It’s not a secret – well, not a secret to anyone who isn’t Alec, apparently. Ragnor keeps tutting at him every time he's in the same room as them. Alec is wonderful – smart, funny, beautiful, attentive, and protective of everyone he cares about. Even as a servant, the position he’s in is high enough that he could get married if he so wanted, and Edom’s laws mean he doesn’t have to marry a woman. But Alec has never shown an interest in anyone, and after a while Magnus stopped teasing him about it and started to look for signs, anything that might prove Alec’s heart was already taken, preferably by him. He hasn’t found any yet, because Alec is disturbingly hard to read when it comes to any emotion beyond sarcasm.

It’s entirely possible Magnus is going mad with love. When he voiced this to Ragnor he was met with a raised eyebrow and a simple ‘but how would we know the difference?’.

“Today, my Alexander, I have meetings with some lords at the edge of Edom about the disputed orchard, a meeting with our Head of Events about the Seelie Queen’s upcoming visit and oh, a delightful half hour with Azazel on the topic of safeguarding the royal body.” His sneer says how much he’s looking forward to that meeting with the head of the Palace Guard. Alec, however, brightens at the thought of seeing his brother. 

He keeps that smile on his face as he flutters around Magnus, passing him his garments for the day. Magnus has long refused to make Alec dress him, partly because he wants Alec to remain his senior counsellor and partly because he couldn’t deal with the daily embarrassment from the erection he’d get if Alec even dared touch him longer than a small adjustment to his cravat. He suspects Alec is almost hurt by his refusal, but he has no idea how the explanation would be any less of a mess. So far, he’s content to pine from afar, and send Ragnor his awful poetry every week, knowing the man is duty-bound to read any note from a son of the King, even if he’s a bastard son yet to be legitimised. It’s the little things that keep Magnus going.

The orchard matter is cleared up when Alec manages to ascertain that one of them is jealous of the better grade of alcohol the other makes with the apples and suggests a compromise that enables both families to profit from different offerings to a wider market. Magnus is too busy gaping at Alec’s insightful brilliance to notice that they’ve pledged him the best of the new barrels until Alec nudges him.

“Wonderful news. I do love a drink, after all. Perhaps we can use it as one of the offerings at the next banquet – I imagine the Seelies would enjoy apple wine as much as we do.” Both men flush with pride and walk away arm in arm, discussing their new-found success, with royal patronage no less.

“Deftly done, my lord.” Alec murmurs as he ushers Magnus out to his next appointment. “With that as a promise, they won’t dare descend into fighting about their new company as soon as they would have otherwise.” 

Magnus pats Alec on the shoulder. “I have my moments. But I’d genuinely thought this was about land. How did you know?”

“My brother reliably informs me that the Penhallow’s wine is far superior to the Branwell’s. It seemed like jealousy was the real cause. And Isabelle might have let slip that the two daughters have… an attachment that the commercial joining of the families may facilitate into an accepted formal understanding.”

Magnus pauses and works through Alec’s discretion. “Oh, so Lydia and Aline are fucking? Good for them.”

Alec coughs, choking on air. 

“My lord!”

“Life is short, Alec. Say what you mean. You’re far too good for this household, you know that.” 

“My parents raised me well,” is all Alec primly replies, but the corners of his mouth turn up in as much of a smile Magnus is likely to get out of him in the morning.

It’s enough to make him greet their Head of Events with a clap of the hands and a beaming grin.

“Biscuit,” he says effusively, and sees Alec wince out of the corner of his eye. Alec hates that nickname and barely tolerates Clary, so all in all, Magnus does this as much as possible. He loves making Alec look affronted. It’s his third favourite expression, after his wide smile he so rarely bestows, and his deadpan grumpy face, which is offered far more frequently. 

“Your Highness,” Clary greets him cheekily and curtsies, and then Magnus picks her up and spins her around, her giggles filling the air.

“So how bored am I going to be during this visit by her Royal Annoyance?”

Clary swats at him and flips open the book on the table, ready to go through the list of things Magnus actually has a say in for this visit. It’s an annual occurrence, one his father instilled and Magnus must maintain, mostly for political reasons. It’s never good to piss off the Seelies, who have the biggest army of their allies and the longest border with Edom. Both of them love to pick on Idris, the smallest of the nations, but Magnus fears one day the Seelies will simply wipe them out and then Edom surely is next. But that’s a problem for future Magnus. 

“Very bored. I think your father might actually suggest a marriage between the two of you this time though, so there’s that for fun.”

And this is present Magnus’ problem. Behind him, Alec stumbles over nothing and catches himself on the table. Magnus ignores it and falls back into the chair with a louche twirl.

“I know, biscuit,” he all but wails. “What the hell am I to do? I’m not marrying that woman. Or any of her family.”

“Relax,” Clary says, although it’s said to somewhere slightly over his shoulder. “I think a few inconsistencies and maybe a tiny hint of recklessness here and there, and she’ll be appeased enough to be friendly but repulsed enough to not want you. I’ve made some notes where we can push it during the ball, and of course the banquet. The negotiations, well, that will be up to you.”

She sits down next to Magnus and starts taking him through her plan to placate but not encourage the Seelies, pointing out where Magnus can talk about his love of meat, for example. Magnus gets drawn into the plots and doesn’t notice how silent Alec is standing behind him, or how little he offers to the conversation.

When their allotted time is up, Clary hugs him, then curtsies again, and gives Alec a nod of her head and a kind smile before she leaves. Magnus looks up to see Alec staring after her with a complicated expression on his face.

“Really? Clary?”

Alec starts and then looks at Magnus with the most adorably confused expression that Magnus has seen. Magnus gestures after her.

“That’s who gets you hot and bothered?”

“What? No, ew.” Such a noise is so unexpected from Alec’s mouth that Magnus’ mouth falls open and then he roars with laughter. After a second, Alec begins to laugh too.

“Of all the things to get you to be a normal human being for once,” Magnus says, trying to catch his breath. “It’s the thought of you and Clary?”

“Hey,” Alec protests, holding his side, but continues to laugh. Magnus loves watching him like this, carefree and so much younger than he normally seems. Like the boy he thought of nearly every night of when he was first posted to Alicante.

 After a moment, Alec straightens and schools his face.

“Enough. Lunch, then… your Uncle.” Magnus grimaces but follows Alec anyway.

Azazel, as much as Magnus wants to not give the man any credit, is a fantastic head of the Palace Guard. This is not because he’s a skilled General in battle, although he is. And it’s not because he trains and retrains his troops every day, although he does. No, it’s because after his spies tell him secrets and he feeds them back to his brother, he then takes great joy in thinking up cruel and unusual punishment for those that have slighted the king. It makes him feared and fearless.

Magnus hates him.

He’s suggested a few times what Magnus could do with Alec, and Magnus knows he’s made the same suggestions to his father. And if Magnus was a crueller man, or had no shame or soul, then he might have listened. But he wants Alec, and likes Alec, and because he’s a better man than his father, he’s not going to do anything as stupid as simply take Alec. But it makes him wary of Azazel, and Alec has followed his lead. Alec’s never been alone with Azazel and, Magnus has noticed, never accepts anything from him, whether that’s food, a gift or a blade for sparring.

Today, Azazel is making Magnus practice fighting three men at once. They have different weapons, and Magnus is getting his ass kicked. Normally he’d be fine, mainly because in a real fight he’d have access to the knives concealed in his boots and in the lining of every coat. But Azazel knows this and so has taken both his shoes and his coat and is making him fight with one sword. Which is useless, really, in a fight with three opponents. The trick is to dispatch one quickly and take their weapon.

“Focus,” barks Azazel, gesturing at the men to try again. Magnus wearily hoists himself up off the floor and takes a prepared stance. 

The guards circle him. Magnus should be watching them, but he’s watching Jace and Alec watch the practice instead. Jace keeps murmuring to Alec and Alec keeps nodding, his jaw tight. Whatever Jace is telling him, it’s not good. Or maybe it’s just a family update. Or maybe it’s how best to incapacitate Magnus and run away. Or –

One of the guards with the staff – Raj, he thinks his name is – makes his move, sweeping his weapon at Magnus’ feet. But he’s prepared and jumps over it, which of course leaves him open for a feint from the ugly short one. Magnus blocks and parries, and then is tripped by the girl with the ferocious face but kind eyes.

He goes tumbling to the hard floor for the twelfth time in twenty minutes and Maia points her blade at his throat.

“And you’ve died, nephew,” Azazel points out, sounding bored.

Magnus just lies there, too much in pain to answer, rubbing his shoulder. In a moment Alec is next to him, crouched down, his face concerned.

“My lord?” he asks quietly.

“It’s nothing,” Magnus reassures him, but Alec straightens up to face Azazel anyway. 

“I believe our time is up.”

Magnus can tell without looking Azazel is sneering at Alec. 

“We still have three minutes left.”

“Then your guards can attack me for practice.” Magnus grins at how pissed off Alec sounds, like he’s doing Azazel a huge favour. But then common sense takes over and he tries to get up but nope, that hurts, so he leans up on his other arm. The guards were holding back with him, he knew – but with Alec, they won’t hold back. Alec could get seriously hurt.

The three are circling Alec now, waiting for a sign from their leader, unsure if they should actually attack or not. But Azazel nods and they tighten closer. The short one goes first, but Alec dodges swiftly and jabs the hilt of his sword into his stomach, sending him to the floor groaning.

Raj is next, and Alec sweeps left then right, avoiding his staff, moving swiftly backwards as Raj advances. Magnus watches Maia silently track him, preparing to come at him from the right. But then Alec pirouettes left in a balletic motion, kicks out a leg to stop the sweep of Raj’s staff and then casually throws his blade into his left hand and punches Raj in the face with his right.

Magnus is aware his mouth is hanging open. He looks at Jace, who is not even bothering to hide his gleeful laughter. Azazel looks pissed, and Maia looks surprised and then narrows her eyes and charges.

Alec waits calmly, then simply sidesteps, moving too quickly for Magnus to track and lashes out with flat of his blade, slapping her hand so she drops her sword. She whirls on him with a yell of pain and anger and he stomps on the end of Raj’s staff, jumping it onto his hand and takes her legs out from under her.

The whole thing took less than a minute. 

Alec saunters over to Azazel and hands him the sword and staff. 

“Unless you want to spend your two minutes left going again?” he asks, raising one eyebrow, and Azazel shakes his head, his eyes blazing. Magnus is going to have to be even more vigilant with Alec now, the idiotic fool. The beautiful, aggressive, weirdly-hot-when-he’s-violent fool.

Alec turns back and comes over to Magnus, who is still gaping. 

“Come to a bath, my lord,” Alec murmurs, picking Magnus up with a barely noticeable hitch in breath. “It will help.”

“Only if you’d join me,” Magnus says and then wishes he’d bitten his tongue. Alec’s face shutters closed for a second, and then he drops his head, the very picture of a demure servant.

“I’ll stay in the room and read to you, my lord, as you desire.”

How noble of Alec to turn what was a genuine invitation into a simple request for company and entertainment. Sometimes Alec is so proper Magnus could curse him.

Alec sends a maid ahead to ready the bathroom and the room is filled with steam when they arrive. There’s a small antechamber with a chair and a screen for modesty, because Magnus likes to have baths and sometimes that overlaps with people needing to tell him things. Alec unbuttons his waistcoat and tugs away the linen of his shirt from his breeches before Magnus can swat him away. Alec peers at his shoulder and starts to move it gently.

“Ow,” Magnus winces, and Alec drops his arm.

“Sorry,” he says. “I don’t think it’s damaged, but you’ve jarred it. Heat then ice, I suspect will do the trick.”

“Then that’s the trick we shall do,” Magnus says nonsensically, standing half naked in front of Alec, looking at the shape of his mouth as he purses it with worry.

“Shall I continue the Catullus?” he asks, with a twinkle in his eye and Magnus groans inwardly. He never should have started Alec on romantic Roman poetry. 

“By all means,” is all he says though.

Alec reads to him behind the screen while Magnus soaks in a large marble bath. The bath is big enough for six people and has in fact fit seven people inside of it, although certain body parts were hidden in various orifices at the time, so Magnus supposes that saved space. Magnus finds himself lulled by the cadence of Alec’s voice as he tells him poems of male love in ancient times, Alec’s voice gravelly and earnest at the right times.

The water is filled to just under his chin and scented with rose and sandalwood, and Magnus floats on the sound of romance and the warmth, watching clouds of steam billow around the room. It’s too short when Alec calls for him to get out of the bath, and Magnus grumbles as he wraps a towel around his waist and Alec finally greets him again, checking his body critically for bruising.

“I’m worried about your shoulder,” Alec tells him, and Magnus rolls his eyes. 

“Well, you’re not a doctor, so what can you do.”

It’s meant to be rhetorical, not make Alec’s face light up. He turns and rummages in one of the wicker baskets kept in the room and then gestures to the marble bench.

“I can massage you,” he says, looking earnest and Magnus kind of wants to cry. For Alec to touch him, for Alec to offer – Alec must be a sadist to inflict that upon him.

“You know we have people to do that for me.”

“Well, they’re not here.” Alec guides him firmly to the bench and makes him lie face down, folding his arms under his head.

“Perhaps my lord forgets I’ve served in his army, and have nursed many a man with aching muscles,” Alec says, and then taps Magnus on the calf. “And no, not in the way your dirty mind is thinking either.”

Magnus grins into the crook of his arm, but he can’t help his mind slipping to where it’s already going, the idea of Alec easing some young soldier out of his clothing and placing his oiled hands over his body. Alexander’s large callused hands gliding down and down even further and then that image blinks out of his mind when Alec’s hands touch _his_ skin, smoothing oil over his back. 

Oh, this was a bad fucking idea. Magnus tries to think of unsexy things, very unsexy things, like Ragnor’s face and Jace’s snorting laugh, but then Alec whispers ‘That’s it’ when Magnus relaxes, and his brain stutters again.

It’s a bit like torture, to have Alec’s hands on him, working out his knots and aches, worse when Alec’s hands work on his legs and his thumbs dig into his glutes where his ass curves into his thighs. Yes, it’s good, because he needs it, but it’s bad, because it’s _too good_. His brain keeps supplying him with images of Alec, thoughts of letting his hands creep a little higher, Magnus parting his thighs with a sigh, and then Alec gently parting his ass cheeks and dipping his head to lick at him, his breath hot on his entrance. In reality, Magnus squirms a little on the hot marble slab, and Alec digs his thumbs in deeper.

Magnus lets out a moan that’s not entirely appropriate.

Alec eases Magnus over and begins to pour warm oil on his chest, his hands following the rivulets over his muscles, thumbs digging in and easing tension. He gets a stubborn knot out of one of his pecs and rotates Magnus’ shoulder back and then smiles when he sees it move easier. Magnus pretends he has his eyes closed, but he’s watching Alec from underneath his lashes. The pads of Alec’s fingers trail over his nipple and he shivers, his cock hardening under the small patch of cloth protecting – laughably – his modesty. 

It’s not the first time Alec has seen him naked, nor is it the first time he’s been – well, aroused in front of him. Alec’s walked in or witnessed more debauched scenes than Magnus would care to admit, although none for a while.

It is the first time Alec continues to touch him, however. He acts like he hasn’t noticed – the good servant, Magnus supposes, his hands pressing gently over his stomach muscles. He could swear Alec hums or murmurs. Magnus can’t even see if Alec risks a glance at his cock – and it’s hard to miss, at this point – as Alec leans back and moves down his body, pouring oil again into his hands. The press of his thumbs into the pad of his foot has Magnus moaning and so Alec does it again, then traces the arch of his foot and works oil between his toes.

First one ankle, then the other. It’s like a small quiet torture to feel Alec’s blunt fingers on his bones, delicate and gentle when needed, pushing and insistent when he knows Magnus can take it as he works his way up Magnus’ calves. The touch of his fingers to his knee makes Magnus moan again, shifting on the warm marble slab, his cock thickening with a pulse that levers the small modesty cloth off him completely.

Alec merely pours more oil on his hands and begins to work Magnus’ thighs, his knuckle pressed hard into the outer band of muscle until Magnus’ leg stops shaking and he simply takes the pressure. The flat of Alec’s hand presses over the top of his thigh and then warm fingertips brush the soft inner skin of his thighs, whisper close to his balls, and retreat again, working on his other leg like nothing happened. Magnus shudders in a breath as his cock blurts pre-come and it slides down his length.

There’s no way Alec misses that. But he kneads Magnus’ other thigh, keeping his eyes down, never flicking up to see if Magnus is ashamed or embarrassed or even horny as hell and desperately wanting Alec.

It’s the latter, but he’d like it if he could tell that Alec wanted it to be that one as well.

He tries to shift a little, his mind helpfully telling him he should be shying away from Alec when he’s laid out defenceless like this, but his traitorous body slides further into Alec’s touch, his hips canting up so Alec has to hold him down by the heel of his hand. Magnus can’t help the whimper that falls from his lips. He closes his eyes tight for a second and tries to work out if that noise is him or Alec panting softly, and then opens them to look at Alec properly, finally noting the way he’s blushing yet completely focused on Magnus’ body. 

Alec wordlessly pulls Magnus’ thighs apart a little more and pushes his hands between them, thumbs rubbing circles in the sensitive thin skin there, so close to his perineum that Magnus thinks for a moment he might even massage that, and then Alec moves his hands and runs his fingers tenderly along the crease where his groin meets his thighs, his knuckles brushing at the hair there and Magnus breaks.

“Alec, Alec,” he groans and grabs his hand, lifting up slightly. It’s hot and slippery with oil, insanely so; Alec’s practically dripping with it. Magnus is entirely guided by the desire flaring over his skin, by the want tight in his belly, and he pulls Alec’s hand until it wraps around his cock and he moans again, bucking up into it.

“Do you want me – one of the harem, perhaps?” Alec stutters, pink flushing over his cheeks even as his hand tightens around Magnus’ cock and Magnus shakes his head. 

“I want _you_ , Alexander. Please.” He lays back down and shifts his hips up into Alec’s hot grasp. There’s a long moment where Alec does nothing, doesn’t even blink and Magnus’ brain catches up with his body and reaches that yawning-chasm of-terror feeling because there’s no way back from this. Not really, no way he can talk himself out of asking his friend and servant and secret crush to jerk him off - when Alec begins to fist his cock in long, steady pulls, slick and hot, the sounds of oil and his pre-come squelching obscenely and echoing in the bathroom. His hips move easily with Alec’s pace to find a rhythm like they’ve been lovers for years and it feels so good and right that Magnus could cry with relief. His mouth falls open, nerves crackling when Alec twists his grasp, and he lets out a low rasping groan, fingers wrapping tightly around the lip of the marble bench he’s lying on.

“God, yes. I’m not... I’m not gonna last,” Magnus warns when Alec speeds up and adds his second hand, both of them working in tandem, his cock enclosed in a hot oiled tunnel of skin that feels unbearably good, so good it tastes like sugared flowers in his mouth, bursting when Alec slides his thumb over the head of his cock.

“Alec,’ he says, low and ragged, wanting to see his eyes, but Alec isn’t looking at him, focused instead on his task. Magnus wants to stop him, to remind him that it’s them, to say he loves Alec because he does, he really fucking does, he has done for quite some time, but Alec does the thumb thing again and sucks his lip between his white teeth and bites down and that’s it. Magnus gasps and bucks up into his fist, coming in jerky pulses over his hands with a groaned “ _Alexander_ ” and there, there’s a flash of hazel, so fast he could be imagining it.

Magnus lays there panting, trying to get air into his lungs again, to stop lights popping behind his eyelids, licking his dry mouth. His hands flail against the warm wet marble trying to find enough purchase to push himself up weakly, reaching for Alec to hold him, return the favour, kiss that infuriating mouth of his, or at least see if he’s as affected as Magnus is. But Alec steps back out of reach, drying his hand on a towel, looking implacable if flushed. He isn’t meeting Magnus’ eyes, and that’s almost worse than the physical distance.

“If that’s all, my lord,” Alec says, his voice wavering in a way that makes Magnus’ chest hurt and he doesn’t even wait for Magnus to answer before he turns and leaves hurriedly, the outer door of the bathroom shutting with a loud bang.

“Shit,” Magnus says eloquently as he stares after him, and collapses back down to smack his head against the marble, once, twice, three times.

 

He doesn’t sleep well. He’s tempted to go to Alec, to find him in the outer chamber and talk to him, apologise. But he doesn’t get up, partly because it might seem pushy, and also partly because when he stands moping at his window, he spies Alec sneaking out of the palace and meeting someone in a cloak just outside the gates. For a moment Magnus is stricken, watching them greet each other, waiting for Alec to kiss them and reveal he’d been in a relationship all along and Magnus just took advantage of an old friend who couldn’t say no without a small chance of being made destitute. But then the person throws back the hood of her cloak and it’s Isabelle. Magnus can just make out her strong features as the moon rises.

He breathes a sigh of relief and lies back on his bed, but only dozes fitfully, waking at every small noise in case it’s Alec. Which means he must look terrible when Alec does come in, right on the dot of eight as always, flinging back the curtains.

“What is your desire, my lord?” he asks, but instead of looking at Magnus he keeps his eyes on the floor. Magnus can see points of colour high on his cheeks. 

“You, you idiot.” Magnus is not a morning person at the best of times, but after the sleepless night he’s had, any filter he might have had in place once is completely gone.

Alec startles and look up, takes one look at Magnus’ face, blushes fully and looks away again. Heaven knows the bare lust and longing that must be etched across Magnus’ features. 

“About last night,” Magnus starts, about to apologise, at the same time as Alec says, “If my lord prefers someone to teach me…” and they both trail off, looking at each other.

“Teach you?” Magnus echoes as Alec steps closer and asks “Yes?”. They’re still talking in different conversations, but at least they’re talking.

“I thought you might want someone trained from the harem. Or if it’s simply for convenience, then I of course will take instructions.” Magnus squints at Alec, unable to make sense of the words he’s saying. 

“I don’t want someone from the harem.” He’s had people from the harem before, of course he has. They’re trained and well-fed and willing, or as willing as you can be when someone says, ‘you there, you look like you enjoy a good fuck’ and proceeds to give you a good wage for a few years, after which you can go do what you want in relative economic and physical security.

He opens his mouth to say more but Alec gets there first, his jaw flexing as a muscle twitches once, twice, in front of his ear. 

“Oh. I see. I, um. I can use my hand, my lord, but if you wished, I could be trained in how to use my mouth.”

Magnus makes an inhuman noise and pulls a pillow over his interested cock.

“Mouth. What.” 

“And I hope if I continue to please you, then you will have no reason to dismiss me to your father’s service,” Alec continues, oblivious.

“ _What_ ,” Magnus says again, sharper this time and Alec finally looks at him, his mouth shutting with a click.

“Is this… are you doing this because you think it will protect you?” he finally asks, trying hard to keep the bitterness at bay. 

Alec swallows, looking wary. “I don’t know how to answer that question, my lo-“

“For god’s sake, you’ve had your hand round my cock. I’m clearly half in love with you. Call me Magnus. Please, Alec. Please give me at least this.”

Alec sits abruptly down on the bed, his mouth in a perfect ‘o’ of shock.

Magnus runs his hands through his hair, exasperated. He’s aware he’s pleading, but he can’t stop the torrent of words from spilling out. His mind snags on a word Alec said earlier.

“You’re not convenient for me, you know. If you were convenient… look, you’re anything but. You’re basically my best friend, your family’s in the shit with my father, he wants to bang you, and I’m also probably meant to get married and have kids to continue on his name. You’re the opposite of convenient. But, god, Alec. If you… agreed to touch me last night so I wouldn’t _send you away_ –“

“No,” Alec interrupts, his hand shooting out and gripping Magnus’ forearm in an impressive display of speed and strength. Magnus winces, and Alec loosens his grasp.

“No, I’m not doing this because I think it will keep me safe. That’s not it. I’m a Lightwood.” 

“You break noses and accept the consequences,” Magnus finishes for him, remembering what his parents used to tell them.

“Yeah. I would never do that. It would be using you.”

“So what in the hell made you think I’d do that to you? That you were just a convenient hand?”

Alec blushes again and looks down at his lap. “You’re…” he takes his hand off Magnus’ arm to gesture airily at him. “You’re you. I served you wine while you were bedding two ladies and one very enthusiastic duke. At the same time. There were _contraptions_ involved.”

“Oh yes,” Magnus smirks, the memory coming back to him and bathing him in the warm glow of a very satisfying night. A six-times satisfying night if he recalls correctly.

“Ahem.” Alec clears his throat pointedly and Magnus forces himself back in the room. “So why the hell would you want me? I don’t even know what I’m doing.” 

Magnus stares at him.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me? With your long legs and beautiful smile and smart brain and smarter mouth? Alec. _Your breeches_.”

He looks down. “What about them?”

“God, they’re so _tight_ ,” Magnus moans and finally gives in and grabs him, pulling him nearly into his lap.  He reaches up with one hand and cradles Alec’s jaw in his palm, making sure Alec meets his gaze.

“Tell me you want this,” he pleads. Alec barely finishes saying “I want this” before Magnus leans forward and presses his mouth to Alec’s full lips, licking in with a sure stroke of his tongue. Alec’s mouth is lush and warm and he opens for Magnus like they’d been doing this for years, eager and sure. Alec makes a small noise and collapses back onto the sheets, Magnus following him. He’s sure he has terrible breath and he needs to piss, but this, Alec already squirming under his weight on his silk sheets, this is so much more important than anything else. 

“Do you want…” he starts and then gets distracted by the lean line of Alec’s neck and dips down to bite at it, laving the tendon until Alec shudders and feebly pushes at his chest. He rears back and looks down at him, touching the sliver of chest laid bare by his shirt with trembling hands, fingertips tracing the dip at the base of his throat. 

“I’ve waited so long for you. Tell me what you want, Alec. Just voice it and it’s yours. I’ll go as slow as you need, but please, tell me.”

Alec’s eyes are dark and wide on his and so full of desire it leaves him feeling punch-drunk, reeling and breathless. 

“You. I want you. All of you.”

Magnus’ head spins, like he’s hallucinating after too many of Ragnor’s filthy attempts at home-brewing, but it’s eight in the morning and there are irritating birds chirping outside, and Alec is wearing _far_ too many clothes, so he knows this is real.

“You have me,” he promises, leaning down for another kiss.

“Then _take_ _me_ ,” Alec murmurs into his mouth and Magnus half-growls and paws at his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders, buttons pinging with a tinkling noise onto the floor. Alec throws his head back when Magnus latches on to the freshly-bared skin, licking over it and tasting his soap layered over the salt, his fingers trailing in his chest hair and tugging, threading patterns through it. Alec fumbles at his breeches, pushing them down and flailing a little as they get caught round his knees. Magnus looks down. He hasn’t even taken his shoes off yet.

“It’s ok, my love. Let me take care of you.”

Alec’s breath hitches in his throat when Magnus undoes his shoes and lets them fall to the floor, then peels down his breeches past his knees and over his long legs. His cock bobs thick and heavy, looking obscenely flushed against the pale skin of his hip and Magnus’ mouth waters at the sight of it.

“Alexander,” he says in a hushed voice and leans down to mouth at its length. Alec shoves his fist in his mouth to stifle the groan that falls from his lips, his other hand burying itself in Magnus’ hair. 

Magnus closes his lips over the head of Alec’s cock and swirls his tongue around the tip, licking over the crown when he gently pulls back his foreskin. Long licks make it wet enough for him to suck more of it into the heat of his mouth without much finesse, concentrating more on familiarising himself with the weight of it on his tongue, how it stretches his jaw in the pleasantest of ways. He breathes out through his nose, partly because his mouth is occupied but also because Alec’s untrimmed, wild pubic hair is tickling his nose, so he loosely circles the base of his cock and flattens it down. And then he sets himself a slow pace, hollowing his cheeks as he bobs up and down, trying to find what turns Alec on. 

Alec is making these small huffs above him, his body twitching like it’s being overwhelmed, feet flexing then curling, rucking up the sheets. Magnus doesn’t think he’s ever been quite as entranced with another person in his bed before. He’s trying desperately to ignore his own dick, drooling a line against Alec’s thigh as he works, arching his back to try not to touch him because god, if he does, he might come right there and then, and he has plans for Alexander. Plans that involve finding out how eager his body is.

He fists Alec’s cock and takes him deeper into his mouth, relaxing his throat enough so that when Alec shouts and bucks up, Magnus can take it with only a little gagging, and he presses the heel of his hand down on Alec’s hipbone, trying to keep him in place on the bed.

This, as it turns out, is both a great move and a terrible one, because it causes Alec to rasp out “Ma- _ag_ nusss” in the most arousing way Magnus has ever heard his name called, but then Alec jerks, his body going taut as he comes in a rush down Magnus’ throat. Part of Magnus is elated because now he knows what Alec tastes like. Most of Magnus is coughing because he was not expecting that, although really, if he’d ever wanted proof Alec was a virgin before, this is it. And now it’s over, and he’s pretty sad about that, although he believes from the reaction his mouth got, he won’t have trouble convincing Alec to do that again.

He wipes his mouth on his forearm, not really caring he’d spluttered come all over his sheets and Alec’s legs, and kneels up to look at Alec. Alec’s chest is heaving like he’d just run from the woods to the palace and his mouth is slack and dark red where he’d been biting his lip. He’s sweat-sheened and beautiful, looking at Magnus with heavy-lidded eyes, his gaze full of amazement.

“Say my name again,” is what comes out of his mouth but to be fair to Alec, he doesn’t even blink, just smiles, wide and relaxed. 

“Magnus,” he drawls and raises one of his legs to hook around Magnus’ ass and pull him closer. Magnus falls onto his hands, bracketing Alec, hovering above him. His name sounds like a prayer, like a blessing on Alec’s tongue.

“Again,” he whispers, his thumb stroking at Alec’s temple. 

“Magnus,” Alec whispers back, his eyes darkening even further, so Magnus inclines his head forward and kisses him again, lets Alec taste himself on his tongue. Alec wraps his arms around Magnus and pulls him down onto him, making a small noise of discomfort when Magnus rocks against his spent cock, not used to the sensitivity combined with another person.

“Do you want…?” Alec asks, trailing off as he pushes his hand down Magnus’ chest and Magnus shakes his head. 

“You asked me to take you.” Alec shivers against his mouth. “That’s what I’m going to do. Get you slick and ready, open you up to take my cock.”

Alec makes another choked noise and turns, rolling them so that they are both on the bed, lying facing each other, and kisses him, sloppy and uncontrolled, his tongue exploring Magnus’ mouth as they tangle their limbs together, trying to get as close as possible. Magnus is dimly aware he needs to last and Alec needs to recover and he can’t simply flip him over and push inside, but he’s having trouble convincing his erection. His brain helpfully supplies a distraction.

“Last night,” Magnus murmurs and Alec pulls back, his eyes worried. “You left. You ran away. Are you scared of this?”

Alec shakes his head, his fingers tracing patterns on Magnus’ chest, a fingernail catching one of his nipples so that Magnus shivers.

“I turned the corner, ran into the first room I found, shoved my hand into my breeches and came all over myself.”

So, not that much of a distraction, then. Magnus moans and presses closer, licking at Alec’s neck so that he shivers.

“I wanted you so much, my lord.” Magnus raises his head and looks at him. “Magnus,” Alec corrects with a blush.

“You could have had me,” he replies, biting lightly at Alec’s jaw, and then leans back to fumble at the drawer by his bed.

“I didn’t know if it was me or my hand you wanted,” Alec says quietly when Magnus comes back with a pot of oil in his grasp.

Magnus places it carefully on the bed and then cradles Alec’s jaw in his hand, making him look directly at him.

“It’s always been you. How have you not known that?” 

“You flirt with everyone, my- Magnus. You’ve bedded half the kingdom.”

“If I’d known I could be bedding you, you’re where I would have stopped.”

Alec searches his face, trying to see if he’s being made fun of. But Magnus knows the only thing he’ll find there is sincerity. 

“Come here, please.”

Magnus obliges, leaning in to capture his mouth again, letting Alec dictate the depth and pace. Alec winds his legs around Magnus’ own and grinds into Magnus, making him gasp and clutch at Alec. Then Alec bites Magnus’ lower lip and he groans, hips bucking reflexively.

“If you’re going to bed me, then _do it properly_.”

“God, so demanding,” Magnus shoots back, albeit breathlessly, his hands fumbling for the oil, dipping his fingers in until they’re dripping, and then places the bowl in easy reach. He slides his hand between Alec’s cheeks and feels for his hole, tightly furled, soft hair brushing his fingers as he slides the pads over it, greasing him up, watching Alec tense with anticipation.

“I just want what everyone else got.”

Magnus stops, and Alec huffs out an irritated breath at the delay.

“You’re not the latest, Alexander. You’re the last.” And he presses in with one finger before Alec gets the chance to speak again, watching him as he arches, his head thrown back and his toes curled.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he says and leans in to bite at Alec’s collarbones, working his way down until he can lick at a nipple, laving it until it’s dark and plump in the swirl of Alec’s chest hair.

“Tell me when –“

“Another,” Alec says breathlessly, unclenching around his finger and rolling his hips back. “God, Magnus, I want to feel you. Want your cock so bad, thought about this so many times.”

“Yeah?” Magnus asks as he pushes in his index finger as well, feeling Alec press back against them, the slide smooth and tight, yes, but easier than he expected.

“Used to push my fingers in myself and pretend it was you.” Magnus makes an embarrassing whimpering noise but if anything, that makes Alec grind back even more. Alec’s head is still thrown back, his eyes closed, but he’s smiling, looking blissed out already and Magnus hasn’t put his cock in him yet. 

He twists his hand, opening Alec up as gently as he can, turning Alec more onto his side so he has a better angle for this; tries to forget the throbbing of his cock when he gets the full visual of his fingers sliding inside Alec, his rim closing round them when he moves like he’s sucking him in, the light dusting of hair around his entrance sweat-matted and gorgeously masculine in the way that only Alec is. He withdraws his hand completely to re-dip it into the oil and ignores Alec’s whine, managing to shut him up completely when he presses three fingers into him, slowly working them deeper and deeper, trying to find where he can press lightly to make Alec yelp.

Alec yelps, and Magnus grins.

“There you are,” he practically coos and wraps his other hand around Alec’s swelling cock. Alec is half pressed into the pillows, only the side of his face visible and he’s gasping, shaking.

“Again. Oh, Magnus.”

Magnus does as he’s asked, just rubbing softly next to the bump rather than on it, letting Alec’s tremors do the wriggling for him.

“Can I?” he asks softly, and Alec nods almost frantically.

“Fuck me, oh please my lord, Magnus, please. I want you inside me.” Magnus shudders, pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades and removes his fingers slowly. He can see Alec’s hole try to clench around nothing and has to wrap his hand tight around his cock for a second to calm himself down. Alec twists round more so Magnus has better access and raises his ass, practically presenting himself, and Magnus has to clutch his hip to steady himself.

He slides his slick hand over his dick and then positions himself, pushing into Alec slowly. The crown of his cock stretches Alec’s hole and Magnus can hear him whine as his rim flares and resists, trying to accept it, and then he presses through with an audible sigh, filling Alec in one smooth, steady slide. Alec is hot, clenched around him, and Magnus can feel the thrum of his blood, the beat of his pulse, against his cock and _that_ is a feeling he’s not going to forget. Alec fists the sheets and falls onto his elbows with a loud wail, loud enough that Magnus worries another servant may come to find out how and why he’s hurting Alec.

“Shhhh,” he hisses, unhelpfully accompanying that with a twist of his hips that buries him deeper inside Alec. “Bite the damn pillow if you have to.” 

Alec moans again and sucks the corner of the pillow into his mouth, his arms burrowing underneath it to press it closer to his face, his fingers twisting around the bars of the bed to hold himself in place. Magnus hums his approval and leans down to bite at the meat of his shoulder, grinding his hips into Alec’s ass almost lazily.

“That’s it, my darling,” he says, then starts to move, small slides back and forth, getting longer each time, spurred on by the muffled groans emanating from the pillow, Alec’s eyelashes fluttering dark against his skin where he’s closed his eyes. Magnus slides an exploratory hand beneath him and finds Alec only half-hard.

“Is this good?” Magnus whispers, nosing over his shoulder-blade and pressing kisses to his spine, his tongue flicking to catch the bumps of each undulating knob as Alec twists under him.

Alec nods almost frantically and releases the pillow, sucking in a deep breath.

“God, Magnus. You feel heavenly.” He groans and rocks his hips back, spreading his legs wider. “I love how you fill me.”

Magnus chokes on his own tongue and surges forward, his hands tight at Alec’s hips, pulling him back to meet his thrusts, and both of them shout in harmony. He moves faster, Alec rocking back to meet him, the slap of their skin audible over Alec’s hiccupping moans and Magnus’ increasingly gritted growls. Alec shakes his head to flick his hair out of his eyes and raises himself up on his hands, pressing to brace himself against the bedstead.

“Harder. Magnus, wanna feel you. Wanna still feel you when we’re in boring meetings later and I can’t sit down.” Alec sounds like he’s slurring, almost drunk on pleasure and it twists something inside of Magnus. He grasps Alec’s hair and tilts his head back so Magnus can lean forward and kiss him, messy and uncoordinated, missing his mouth half the time.

“God, Alec. I didn’t know. Didn’t know it could be like this.” He gets one hand underneath Alec and grabs for his cock again, finds it harder, hot in his palm. He starts jerking it roughly and Alec shouts again, cants forward into his grip and then shoves himself back onto Magnus’ cock like he can’t decide which is more pleasurable and quite frankly, Magnus has no interest in making him choose. He simply follows Alec and finds a counter-rhythm, twisting his hand round his erection, slowly becoming more slippery as Alec’s cock pulses pre-come. 

His breath is harsh and ragged, almost wheezing with how hard he’s driving into Alec, the sound of his balls slapping against his thighs obscene music accompanying each thrust. He can see Alec’s hand white on the dark blue sheets, rucking up the cover with every movement of his body.

“Magnus,” Alec gasps and jerks. He’s close, Magnus can tell. He can feel Alec’s body tighten, can feel the cock in his hand harden even further, throbbing.

“C’mon, Alec, come for me, on my cock, screaming my name, that’s what you promised.” Magnus pulls nearly completely out of Alec and then slams back in, grinding into him, knowing he’s pressing into his prostate, wanting nothing more than to watch this beautiful man fall apart.

“Oh, _oh_ ,” Alec sobs, and then draws in a long breath and cries out Magnus’ name brokenly, keening it so it echoes in the room, his body shuddering underneath Magnus as he comes over his hand and the sheets beneath him before collapsing again, his arms giving out with the force of his climax.

Magnus can't feel the rest of his body, everything centred on his cock and the tight quivering vice of Alec around him, pale and shaking on his dark silk sheets. He thrusts again and again into Alec’s unresisting body, closing his eyes to the sparks that coalesce into one bright light that finally shatters, shuddering with a guttural shout as he comes. He rides it out with sharp jerks of his hips, snapping into Alec forcefully and finally stops, his mouth flooded with sweetness, and crumples on top of Alec, breathing hard.

Alec makes a small ‘oof’ noise, so Magnus rolls to one side and slides out of him with an apologetic murmur and a very unhappy whine from Alec, who grabs at his hand and brings it down to his ass. After a second Magnus gets the right idea and pushes his fingers back inside Alec and feels him relax around them, and he hides his smile in the nape of Alec’s neck. Someone likes the feeling of being filled, then.

He feels fairly gross now the moment’s over, cooling sweat and come on his skin, sheets that need to be burned, possibly, sticking to him. But Alec is boneless in his arms and is making small sounds almost like he’s purring whenever Magnus nuzzles at his neck and kisses whatever skin is closest to him, so in reality, Magnus would rather die than leave this bed right now.

“Alec?” he asks. “Was that…ok? Not too rough?”

Alec shakes his head and sighs, snuggling back into Magnus’ arms. Clearly Alec is going to be the little spoon.

“Perfect,” he mumbles, half-asleep. “You’re perfect.”

Magnus chuckles and rolls closer, withdrawing his fingers and wiping them on the sheets before wrapping Alec up and holding him tight.

“I’m so glad it was you,” Alec whispers and raises his hand to squeeze Magnus’ own. “So glad I waited for you.”

“I’m so sorry I made you wait,” he replies, kissing Alec’s neck underneath his ear. They lie still for a few moments, listening to the thud of their hearts calming, their breathing evening out.

“We can’t go back to sleep,” Magnus tells him, even though he wants nothing more than to sleep with Alec curled in his bed and then do this all again. “We have things to do.”

Alec is silent for a moment and then turns in Magnus arms to face him, his hazel eyes bright with a mix of affection and worry. 

“I know,” he says. “We can’t let this change everything.” Magnus’ duty, Alec’s service, Asmodeus’ predatory hovering, the upcoming Royal visit from the Seelies, the fact that Alec’s family is still in disgrace. But.

“But it has,” Magnus whispers, kissing him gently, just parting Alec’s mouth with the tip of his tongue to taste his breath and then leaning back to watch Alec’s eyes darken. “Nothing for me will ever be the same.”

 

 


End file.
